As he moved through the kitchen, though, he pulled up short.
A piece of fabric lay crumpled on the floor. Confused, he picked it up. Lizzie’s apron? Then he glanced around and saw shattered dishes. Not just one, but all of the breakfast dishes were in a broken heap.
“Lizzie!” he called out. He rushed to the staircase and called her name again. No answer. Running up the stairs he shouted for her again, then searched the upstairs for her.
Standing on the landing his mind raced. Nothing in the house seemed out of place, other than the stuff on the floor of the kitchen. Returning to the kitchen he examined the dishes again. No blood. They were all in a pile, as though they’d been dropped.
Had Lizzie fainted? Did someone remove her apron and then take her to the doctor? Why didn’t they come and get him?
Fighting against panic, he spun toward the door. He’d check with Doctor Granger and if Lizzie wasn’t there, he’d contact Cal Watson, the sheriff.
Chapter 11
Matt stepped out of Dr. Granger's office with the doctor following behind him.
"Matt? Are you feeling unwell? You look awfully pale. Why don't you let me check your pulse?"
"No," Matt answered firmly, charging down the steps to the wooden sidewalk. "I have to find Lizzie."
He turned toward the jail and the office of Cal Watson, the sheriff. Matt's heart pounded so loudly in his chest it was like being up in the bell tower of the church on a Sunday morning.
Cal was sitting on the porch of the jail. Obviously Lizzie wasn't with him but Matt strode up anyway. He was out of ideas and maybe the sheriff could help.
"Afternoon, Matt. What can I do for you?" Cal stood and greeted him.
"I can't find Lizzie. You got any idea where she could be?" It was embarrassing to not be able to find your wife, but Matt was beyond caring about that sort of thing.
"No, can't say as I do. Did you check with some of the other women? Posey or Tassie? They're probably somewhere getting up to trouble," Cal said with a laugh. "The last time Tassie and Posey were together those girls from Windy River ended up brawling in the street."
"Thanks, Cal." Matt took off before the sheriff finished his story.
Maybe she'd returned home. It's possible she'd gone off on an errand and he was simply overreacting.
The whole thing brought back bitter memories. He'd stuffed them away, but this situation with Lizzie brought them barreling forward with a vengeance. The day he came home and found his house empty. His mother gone. She'd left her apron on the kitchen table with a note. She was tired of being a farmer's wife, working all day and with nothing to show for it, not even a husband she could love.
Matt wished she'd at least sealed the letter and addressed it to his father. Reading those words in his mother's own hand had cut deep. He blamed himself. If he'd done more. Been better, maybe she would have stayed.
His father had tried to do everything. Cooking and farming and caring for Matt and his siblings, but it had been exhausting. Matt did what he could, but as an eight-year-old boy he didn't have the strength for many of the chores.
Everything had gone downhill from there. His parents' marriage hadn't been ideal, anyone could have seen that, but his mother had just up and left.
And now, he feared Lizzie had done the same.
But why?
He'd done everything he could think of to make her happy. She sure seemed happy.
All these thoughts swirled in his head as he made his way home, bracing for what to do next. He was overreacting and he'd just go home and wait for Lizzie. She'd have a reasonable explanation for all of it.
He was nearly home when movement from the side caught his attention. "Matt!" Lizzie called out to him. He opened his arms and she ran to him and he swept her up, swinging her in a circle. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deep.
"Lizzie," his voice was tight with emotion. "Where were you? I found the dishes and apron. I was so worried."
Her body shook as she took in a ragged breath.
"I-I'm so so-sorry," she said, her voice quivering.
He leaned back and looked at her face, tears running down her cheeks. "Lizzie? What is it, sweetheart?"
He carried her into the house and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, setting her on his lap. Taking hold of her chin he tipped it up and gazed into her tear moistened eyes. "Did you get some bad news from St. Louis? Did something frighten you? Tell me, Lizzie. Please."
"I am a spoiled brat. A horrible person."
He continued to hold her chin even though she tried to pull away.
"Just because you dropped some dishes?" He gave her a small smile. "Come on, sweetheart, accidents happen all the time. It's nothing to get upset about. Come on, I'll help and we'll get this all cleaned up."
"It wasn't an accident. I did it on purpose."
The smile faded from his face. "On purpose? You broke things on purpose." He glanced at the pile of broken dishes. "That's a lot of dishes. Sounds like you had a bit of a temper tantrum. Is that what happened, Lizzie?"
"Y-yes. I'm sorry."
* * *
Moments later Lizzie found herself standing in the corner of the kitchen wearing nothing but her apron. Behind her, Matt cleaned up the dishes. She winced as they clattered together when he threw them into the trash.
She was thoroughly ashamed of herself. The look on Matt's face when she admitted to breaking the dishes on purpose had broken her heart. She could have dealt with anger, she'd been doing that her whole life. But his disappointment cut her to her core.
She glanced over her shoulder to see if he'd finished cleaning up the mess she'd
